Maternal Cherish
by Carbon Polygon
Summary: A mother can and will always love her children, no matter what comes up in their life, and always wish for what is best for her children. Even if that means knowing they have faced the man that ruined their life. One-shot, BLU Scout's Mom/RED Spy.


_When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child._

_-Sophia Loren_

* * *

I had spent those long, gray days banging my fists against the wall, with tears stinging my eyes and dripping in hot fury down my face, dotting the floor in a darkened circle. I had wished for an end to this madness, and end to my grief, and and end to all of the doleful hatred I had contained in my heart for so long. The fury caused by a man who used me just like the last monster who I had married. The man who ignored the fact he now had a son and decided to move away from his family only to serve his "great" purpose in life.

_He_ had done it. He had solved the puzzle that was my heart. He had solved it in such eloquent and masterful execution he had my heart in his hands. He tended it with such care, with such love and tenderness, that I'd fallen head-over-heels for his deceptive trick. I had been under his spells, and I had been under him like a thick-headed disciple. I didn't even question why-I only thought of what he was doing for me. I only believed he had my heart and wanted to take care of it. He was so different from my previous husband, the smallest drop of kindness took me into an oblivion where any act of a pure heart was a godsend.

He took my heart from me, ripped it apart in front of my eyes, and left it there to bleed. It stained me, and left me alone and destroyed. The last glance he gave me was one of distain and anger, and he had kept me in stitches for oh-so-long. I spent years getting over it, years trying to forget the pains in which he's laid into my soul, and would reawaken someday.

That fateful day did come. That day he called me back, for the first time in over eighteen years, claiming he still loved me and wished I would forget the past and return the feelings I had had for him so long ago. He told me he was foolish, and that he was much too proud to admit to having love and a softer side to those he cared deeply for. He said he didn't want to leave me, and that he still loved me with all he could. Such lies.

I had no remorse for him when he told me he still loved me. How could he? How could that lying, cheating bastard still have a drop of holiness left in him after what he'd done? He'd abandoned his son, he shred apart my soul, and he walked off without an ounce of care in the world. He left me alone for days, months, and then years. Without looking back. I can't forget that, neither can I forgive it.

* * *

May 13th, Mother's Day. How odd a day of love is the day the innocent son of a treacherous father is born, the day one of the many treasures of my life is brought into the world without another to share it with.

That day meant so much to me. I had another soul to take care of and not to let go, but also a soul in which would forever remind me of the cruel, emotionless apostate. I had been forced upon to bear into the world and take care of his son, a half-breed I know his older siblings had some species of resent for. But what could I do in motherly instinct but care for him? I knew he was young, I knew he was innocent, but I knew he at least had his siblings for protection as well as myself for him. The only thing he truly lacked in his life was a father. The person standing by to look after the child that had been brought into the world.

Perhaps I talk too strongly about my youngest, but maybe that's because at first I truly felt that way about him. At first all I saw was the result of my foolishness. Yet, in the days that followed, I realized that this child was much more than that. For some reason I knew. For some reason, I knew he would be nothing like his father. I knew that I would do everything to keep him away from his terrible father and raise him as best I could. I knew disliking this child was a stupid idea and I cursed myself for even thinking the idea. I knew he was much more than that.

On that cold, rainy day, I'd looked out the window with my newborn in my arms, thinking of the double-crosser, the miscreant, the renegade who'd left me alone in this cold, empty world. One man after another seemed to use me. They all seemed to expend all that I had in me and then toss me into the gutter, and leave me there to sit and rot. My previous husband I'd divorced. He was nothing but an abusive man who'd expended me even more than the father of my youngest. Seven children later he did not change. I thought maybe I'd be some sort of use to him, and I thought he would care, but I was fooling myself and trying to forget all that made up my heart and soul. A lost paradise, one that pleaded to be let out but was nothing but a shoved away dream hidden in a dark corner. I could never forget what he did to me- he used me. Both the men I've had a relationship with in my life have done so.

I thought maybe my youngest would grow up and come to believe that he didn't have a terrible father. I'd come to think that he would always know how his siblings cared for him despite how much they disliked him. Maybe he did tell me, many times, how much he hated his siblings, and I'd tell him that they just didn't have the same fathers, but that didn't mean they hated him.

"They care for you," I'd say, "you just keep that in mind". I didn't hate my sons, no matter how much they hurt each other. The closest thing to God's love is a mother's. I loved them all, no matter who their parents were. I had them. They were the men in my life, and far exceeded whomever their fathers simply did not want to be.

I don't know why I trusted them as much as I did. Perhaps God had that destined for me. One day, apparently many people apprehended my youngest and would have beaten him to death had his brothers not come. They saved his life. They cared about him, and he knew that from that day on. Motherly instinct always told me that. A family is family, no matter what genes are mixed in. I must always look out for my children, even if one of them constantly reminds me of the snake who'd betrayed me. I hoped the father and son would never meet each other as long as the world shall last.

Maybe it'd been irony or fate when my youngest and his father met up again. When they called me on the same day I'd felt as if the world had split apart and was going to swallow me up, for I'd vowed never to let my son know...and yet...it was as if destiny wanted it so, and was pulling for it from the depths.

I know how much my son's anger flowed and radiated out from his soul that day he called me, the day he realized who his father was. He had nothing but an enraged spiel on his side as he said things I dare not repeat. I knew he was upset over my not telling him, ever, about his father. He told me I was wrong by thinking he didn't need to know who his father was, and how I was being an idiot for not thinking he was old enough, or that he couldn't understand. I know that he ignored my reason. But it was the truth. I could only tell him of how there was no better way to protect him from the abuse in which I suffered emotionally from his father. I knew deep down that he would not believe me, at least not at first. Amidst this, however, I knew that he would come to listen to what I told him, because he'd never do anything to upset me. Perhaps it is the relationship between a mother and her children that makes this mutual trust.

As long as I've been a mother I have always loved my children, even when they got into trouble with me for breaking a vase or running in the house. I always will love them, no matter what happens to them in their life. I always get worried with my youngest's line of work, because he puts his life on the line and treads on eggshells on a daily basis. Thought I do worry of his horrid father corrupting his mind, I know he's very headstrong young man and will not fall for his deceptions. I have full trust in my son.

After all, I am his mother.

* * *

Just something I thought I'd work on for Mother's Day, and I thought I'd toy around with BLU Scout's Mom/RED Spy, even if I didn't directly reference any names in this (not that I really could to begin with). I think it's obvious who's talking here, however, so I don't think any direct names are needed in such a case. I think it's a bit depressing but on the whole played out pretty well in the end.

If you wanna review and let me know what you think, it'd be much obliged. This is sort of romance as well, so, um, for the sake of my new footing, try not to be too harsh.

Team Fortress 2 (c) Valve


End file.
